


A 'Father' of Two

by DaddyAizen



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaddyAizen/pseuds/DaddyAizen
Summary: You were just a bright girl, with many dreams. He was just a beast, prowling for his next victim.Actions of the past, mixed with love never lead anywhere pleasant.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had worked really hard on this piece. Originally I planned for it to be a one-shot, but the more I pondered, and wrote, the more I wanted to add and include. This isn't your traditional fic. It's a bit ambiguous to his character, and what happened to him. There are mentions of abortion, suicide, and things along those lines, so if you get triggered by anything along those lines read at your discretion. It is never my intention to make anyone angered or upset while reading, and I can understand why that would happen. I chose to embark writing this for many personal reasons. I'm excited to continue, and also relieved. It does have a bit of a slow start and buildup during this chapter, but things need to be set up and explained. I hope you all who enjoy this will be excited with me. I appreciate everyone who will read this, and I thank you all. *Possible Manga Spoilers*
> 
> Just a small note: Whenever five years ago is mentioned, it's the year Ywach was defeated.

Tears couldn't stop rolling down your face as your daughter buried her own distraught cries between your chest. Her body trembled, and felt so cold. And all you could do was attempt at consoling her as the guilt devoured every thought you owned. Gently you smoothed at her tattered shirt. It was all your fault (Name) that she was getting bullied. Kids were so terrible and wretched to each other, picking out the weakness and desires they lack.

She hiccuped, tiny palms gripping on your blouse for dear life. Each day she came home with a tear stained face, and frown. It tore your soul apart every time. The first few weeks you kept yourself composed for her, but the more it occurred, the harder it became for you to control yourself. Eventually your tough mom act eroded. You couldn't contain your own boiling depression and harrowing anger. 

The very reason she was sought after to be victimized absolutely repulsed you. She couldn't control the fact that she didn't have a father around. That was far beyond her capability to control. It was your fault (Name). You should have never been with that man. You should have never given him all you had to offer: your home, wallet, chastity, and happiness. And after all that, his lack of humanity caused him to never even say goodbye, tell you he was done. He just left you shivering alone in the middle of the night, departing suddenly with no decent warrant.

But that wasn't the issue right now (Name). That was an agonizingly elongated five years ago, when you were still full of a joyous and vivacious youth. 17 and invincible. At least that's what you had naturally assumed at the time, before he dropped you on your knees and spilled that wretched seed between your virgin legs. 

How lucky were you to get knocked up the first time? It only threw your life in a state of utter havoc and discord. The father wasn't around, your parents had trashed you, oh and you had to give up your education. 

The day you held the test in your hand was the must oppressing day of your life. You remember the devious and hateful thoughts you harbored so conscientiously. At first it started with the self loathing, the regret, the fear of being helpless and isolated. It had escalated rapidly to dancing between knives debating on whether or not liver damage was a viable option for death.

And then your mind crossed the bridge that there was a fetus inside you. Not entirely human, but in no way foreign to your blood. Could you go through abortion? Bearing the burden of knowing you were the reaper of a life? You had nothing against abortion, but being the sentimental marshmallow you were, you knew the grief would rip your soul to shreds. Just like he did. There you go (Name). There hasn't been a single hour in the past years when you hadn't thought of him. He walked in your heart always, (or stampeded and ravaged it like World War II.)

Frail palms were shaking your deteriorating body back and forth. "Mommy! Mommy please don't cry anymore." Your daughter pleaded, her own tears still running feverish. Your concentration snapped back to her. Her issues, the only reason you chose to remain on the path of living. 

A sincere and motherly smiled crossed your face. Your daughter should have been more concerned with the alphabet, and playing with friends that she couldn't make. But here she was consoling you. Get a grip, (Name). Stand tall for her. 

It was hard to recognize that your were singled out in parenting, but you were more than capable of providing her with enough love and nurture. Your dry palms patted down her frayed pigtails. Running the pads of your rough digits over her scalp, revealing the new growth of blue. 

A new worry, and subtraction from your minimal revenue. Perhaps you could extend her root touch-up another month before any staff or students noticed? That was a ridiculous thought. They'd know within the next week, and she'd be thrown out for an 'unnatural/dyed' color. Then one of your many anxious nightmares would occur. A delay for her precious education. If only they knew that it was the gorgeous shade of baby blue. Then you wouldn't have to decide between paying for electricity, or hair dye. 

"I'm so sorry Yuki. I didn't mean to frighten you." You lulled sweetly, placing a kiss on her forehead. Her tears hadn't entirely ceased, but they were decelerating. That had lessened your worries a bit. Right now wasn't the time to have a monetary war in your head; it was dinner time. 

If if there was one thing you never had to fret about was feeding your little girl, and yourself. Your day job consisted of waiting tables at a local cafe owned by a generous man. He never pried about your personal life, but seeing you one afternoon struggling to pay for a bus ride with Yuki clutching your hand for dear life, he didn't need to.  
Albeit you were extremely grateful for his kind offers (and were stubborn enough to originally reject his aid), it was embarrassing for your boss to know of your struggles. But he never judged you, or at least personally commented about it. He only flashes kind smiles, and offered a sustainable amount of food if you worked the wee hours before the sun had risen from its chamber. 

"Yuki, do you want a Caesar salad, or macaroni for dinner tonight?" You questioned already knowing the answer. But you also knew she'd giggled at the useless question, "Mommy of course I want the macarooniiiii."

You chuckled, patting her head. Triumphant was conquered, having those tears no longer cascade. "I was just reassuring, sweetie." "Mommy what does reasshering mean?" 

At the very least you could pass down linguistic knowledge to your daughter. Before the accident, you were a top scholar, and a brilliant writer. But that was then, and this is now. But you had never gone through an attrition of flowery language. It was second nature for you. As a young teenager you began to discover yourself, and furthermore the talents that were bestowed upon you. Although you were no mathematician, you breathed the mist of macabre, and inhaled the analytical skills of character development. Childish, and greedy, you prayed that your daughter would take after you in those regards.  
Scooping her up in your toned forearms, "Reassuring is basically to comfort an assumption."  
"What's an asshumtion?"

You threw your head back out of joy. You were so proud to have a daughter who didn't mind asking for clarification. In fact even her teacher has complained about her asking so many questions. But the teacher didn't know what it was like to have a curious and bright child. Hell, when you were a student, you always got pissed off at the kid who couldn't shut up with questions. But now reflecting on what the action actually meant is that Yuki cared. If Yuki didn't she'd just nod her head and be satisfied with ignorance. Your princess wanted the world, and to claim a world, you have to attain as much wisdom and knowledge as humanly possible.   
"It's a guess based off observations generally."

Her face exploded with a grin, "Like a prediction or hypoteesis?" 

She was sure going to be a dead ringer for synonyms. You nodded in approval, bringing her to the built in counter. The kitchen in the apartment wasn't any larger than two hall closets combined, but you dealt. You couldn't complain for the price of rent, and having a place for Yuki to develop. 

Squeezing between the inconvenient kitchen island that was installed and the counter, you extended a hand for the cool bar of the fridge. The surface was smooth, but was dulled from age. It wasn't a shocker to have aged appliances for the apartment. Sure they weren't the most efficient, but they sufficed to complete their designated tasks and purposes.   
The air of the fridge was uncomfortably chill, coating your skin. You squirmed, having goosebumps etch on the surface of your skin. You had hurried to reach for a container of fresh macaroni from this morning, and a chilled cupcake. The cupcake was originally intended for the weekend , but Yuki had an immensely rough day. She deserved to have her favorite treat. Your daughter loved the specialty cupcake at the cafe. It was a basic red velvet batter, with a succulent, sweet vanilla frosting that can make anyone's mouth yearn for moisture. The delicate sweet is topped off with a ripe strawberry, covered in a rich dark chocolate. 

You you were going to eat the Caesar salad, but you were feeling bloated. For some reason your stomach was churning and whirring in a bizarre way.   
Sliding back on the checkered mosaics of the floor, you placed the black plastic container in your daughter's hands. "Do you want a spork?" You offered, already witnessing your daughter attempt to shovel in the cheese covered noodles with her palms. Children were so cute. 

She nodded. You had run a short sprint to the econo living room which was again, closet sized. The sporks you snagged from work this moment were hidden in your cheap outlet store purse. It wasn't very elegant, but it was sturdy and eased the struggle of carrying an abundance of items around.

Snaking your hand in, your felt around for the thin plastic bagged spork. You reached it with ease, running back before your daughter began to eat of the container as if it were crack. She had attempted to snort it once.. You adored her, and found those actions to be amiable. Never had you scolded her for actions like that, but you prompted her about manners, and what is appropriate to do. One of your beliefs was that yelling and belittling children was the worst way to get any point across. You knew well from experience, recalling the traumatic times your parents threatened to send you nunneries or take away anything enjoyable for even the most simplest acts of insolence. A child should respect their parents, but never fear them. 

And a parent should be firm, but always willing to bend a little. Communication and meeting halfway is the key to any successful relationship. You had made the vicious mistake of neglecting that key your whole life. But now this is your time to redeem and prove that you have grown up from a little 17 year old who thought she had life figured out. 

You gave Yuki her spork, hopping on the counter next to her. She mumbled a polite 'Thank you', before she gazed at her food with predatory eyes. Before you knew it the macaroni had disappeared and she had a lazy grin spread across her face. 

Yuki was always so good about eating all of her food, even if she didn't like it. But at this point you always tried your best to get her the meals she enjoyed. "Hey Yuki," you paused, tilting your head to face her. She seemed so muddled and conflicted, probably over the bullying going on at school. You had contacted the principal an abundance of times, but he just brushed it off. If you had more money you'd move areas so she could attend a different school. You were in the process of transferring her right now, but the request wasn't validated as urgent. 

She had turned to face you, looking as if she was about to tear up again. Before any water broke, you handed her the cupcake. She squealed with exuberance. Her smile was the perfect reassurance that she was thankful. But sadly, although you didn't want to press her about what was going on, you had to. It was a hazard if she began bottling all these negative emotions.  
Kicking off your sandals, you crossed your legs. "Are they teasing you again Yuki?"

There was a thick silence; the poor girl even halted eating her favorite treat. She was worse than a deer caught in the headlights. Coyly she nodded 'yes'.  
You gulped, "Is it because your father isn't around?"

Again the wrinkling of a pastry wrapper froze, and her eyes began to swell. She nodded again. Your heart sank into the floor. It pained you so much to see her so devastated. "Mommy.." 

Your brows raised in a sincere fashion. "Did I ever have a daddy?" She whimpered, trying to stuff the cupcake in her mouth to console her own sorrows and blues. "Of course." You answered, voice and body beginning to shake. Her eyes softened with a dulling spark, "Did he love you? As much as you me?" She peeked. A frown crossed your face, and your brows knitted together. "I'm not sure.." You whispered faintly. You didn't want to tell her flat out, that her father was a being probably not capable of loving another. And you never blamed him for that. "Oh.. But mommy, did you love him?"

That question haunted you. It felt as if she just took an ice pick and began shattering your rib cage. You never quite came to absolute terms with how you felt. Even after five years the mention of him emotionally resorted you to being foolish and 17 all over again. But even if you loathed the answer, you knew it outright with every nerve in your body. Clenching your teeth, and tightening your muscles to control the tears from splashing you answered, "Yes, I loved him very much."  
Her natural smile returned, and vanilla icing was smeared all over the corner's of her lips. "What was he like!?" She exclaimed.

A heavy sigh congealed from your lungs. You were going to censor, and dull down his flamboyant description. And even after doing that, you were quite hesitant of describing him. Before you started babbling about her father, you wrapped a loving arm around her shoulder's, and pulled her closer to you. She radiated a pleasant and coaxing warmth.

A wise smile appeared on your mug, parting your lips and speaking to the air, "He had a funny name." You started. A question already bubbled from Yuki, "What was it?"  
You hadn't spoken his name in years. Honestly, you didn't even know if the proper syllables could roll off your tongue. You felt undeserving of uttering his name. "Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez." It came out a bit more bitter and harsh than you expected. 

"He was very tall, and muscular. Lean, like a big cat." Your face began to fluster, reminiscing about him. Loathing that you still fell victim to his looks in your thoughts and dreams. "His hair was just like yours, a gorgeous baby blue. He wore it kinda like a pompadour, but it was more edgy."

Yuki was probably a bit lost on the context and meanings of some of the words, but she knew that this was a tense moment for you. "His eyes were void of pupils, like an intense ocean. Frozen, heartless."

The words you spoke were begging to croak, and rise in pitch. "His eyes were adorned by aqua blotches, and he quite literally had a defined jaw. Do you have a rough image of him, Yuki?"

She nodded, enticed by your whimsical description. 

Moisture began to evaporate from your throat and tongue, "He was alien to say the least. Aggressive, rough. Grimmjow was always looking for a scuffle. I think I witnessed a spectacle between him and a squirrel once. Crude, and rude. He wasn't looking for love, just a good time."

You prayed that went over her head, "He was always brooding, acting like a cat that was kicked out onto the curb. Cunning, cynical, cruel, gruesome. He acted on instincts rather than thoughts. But even so, he was loyal, protective, and I think somewhere in that empty heart of his he cared. I believe that he couldn't express his emotions properly so they came out in unadulterated anger and angst."

In the midst of your tangent, you became ignorant to the hot tears trailing down the sides of your face. 

"Mommy.." Yuki tugged on the sleeve of your blouse. "I didn't understand haf of threes words, but I'm sorryyy."

It wasn't your intention to upset her, but explaining the man her father was required a bit more years of life lived by her.   
You laughed, "I should invest in a dictionary for you, Yuki." 

She giggled too, and then yawned. "Let's get you to bed okay, sweetie?" You asked a bit hoarse. She complied, understanding that you only wanted her to her a good night's rest. 

Hopping off the counter, and extending a hand, she grabbed it. She wandered off to the small bathroom the both of you shared. And cordially after you tucked her in the only real bed in the house. She chose a poem for you to read her, just like you did every night. You wanted her to be experienced, and gave opportunities you couldn't anymore. After the reading, you placed a delicate kiss on her forehead. "I love you mommy."

Your emotions just couldn't resist toying with you this evening. "I love you too. Goodnight." You tucked her in, and turned off the lamp, but left the light night of the crescent moon, and the full sun.

Closing the door subtly, but leaving an adjacent crack for the highlight to peer out and pool on her floor. It was just a precaution, in case she needed you at anytime in the the night.

The nascious feeling in your stomach began to stir again. You felt a bit sick, and lightheaded. Maybe you should spend the evening relaxing? You can do the household chores tomorrow during your only day off which was Sunday. It was the only day you begged and pleaded to have off. You wanted to spend as much time as possible with your daughter to compensate for him missing out on her life. 

Feet dragged to the gray, and worn out couch residing in the middle of the tiny salon room. You plopped down, having your back slump into the the mess of burgundy covers and pillows. Everything was almost tranquil as your eyes began to shut, too exhausted to brush your teeth. Yeah sure it was gross, but you knew how much effort it would take to disperse getting up from the small, but comfy couch. 

A loud clatter roared from the kitchen. It sounded like shattered glass. Alarmed, you opened your eyes, jumping from the couch.  
You dashed to the kitchen, trepidation filling every coherent and incoherent thought your mind could create in under a minute.  
Flicking on the light switch, a buzzing noise echoed from the fan. The glass bulbs on the said fan providing a false illumination. 

In the middle of your kitchen, was a threat. Hands stuffed in the pockets of gray jeans, and wearing a black polo shirt. A displeased grin, and vile eyes.  
Your breathing quit, and your knees felt absolutely useless. Legs began to quake and shake; you had never felt this unbalanced. Words couldn't even form from your tightening throat. The irony just couldn't be more impeccable could it? 

He simply stepped in front of you, sneering. "God damn woman, you look like I just murdered a kid in front of you."

Oh (Name). (Name) please focus. You couldn't. You simply and absolutely couldn't. You were absolutely powerless. Were you 17 again? What happened to the mom of only 22? 22, was still young and naive (Name). It didn't matter what side of the coin you resided on; you'd behave the same way. "Grimmjow.." You finally broke through the wordless barrier. Streams of tears breaking from your face. Love was such a bastard. It wasn't a fairy tale, or a sweet sunrise. It was a consuming death. Figuratively and physically. The manifestation of love for the past five years he was missing took a harrowing toll.

He sent you a disgusted glare, "Is that all you can say? Are you gonna make this a waste of my time woman? I came here just to see you." He emphasized as if you were the one who walked out five years ago. 

If you weren't so terrified you would have screamed his head off for every sin he's committed against you. How dare he have the audacity to seek you out? It was horr- His large palm grabbed one of your quivering shoulders. Ensnared (Name); he was trapping you. But weren't caught by this predator years ago? It was only now he was returning to reap his bounty.

His vacant eyes scanning you for the differences, and changes of the half decade. 

The irritated male had his other hand drag the calloused tips of fingers over your cheek, extending to your shortened hair. He ran his finger's through the short tresses. He was probably a bit stunned at the changes you went through. A sophisticated haircut, and dull clothes that pleased and blended in with the demanding public. Grimmjow's eyes were still violating every inch of your body, gawking at you. His orbs were critical, and harsh over analyzing every wrinkle and crease on your clothing.   
"Are you a mom or something? Women like you don't make changes like this unless something happened. Did someone die, how's school going?" He joked with venom. How much of an ignorant bastard could he be? That one statement set you into a blazing with rage and fury. Tears, love, hate or not, he had to leave now. Right (Name)? You couldn't just let him in here to stomp all over your life again, could you?

You struggled out of his grip, but he didn't let you even squirm. "Let me go, you fucking bastard." You hissed at him, the repeat of hot tears raining down your solemn face. You could have sworn a face muscle twitched above his brow. And before you knew it, your back was slammed against the cheap blue cornflower wall paper that coated the wall. Just as tacky as your comment. Your spine absorbed the surging pain, and your face heated with his constricting grip around you neck. Your feet dangled aimlessly, gasping for air. Some things never changed between the dynamics of people, no matter how much time eroded away.

There was a pained expression on his face. It seemed as if he wasn't please with your unwelcoming greeting. Was he really offended by those mere pathetic words? Did he even care what you thought of him? "Woman," He seethed, loosening the grip on your neck. You were gracious for the ability to have air flow in and out of your lungs again. "Who the hell are you talk to me like that?"

Debating whether or not it was worth releasing your pent up feelings, you inhaled a deep breath, boiling droplets of water still pouring from your eyes. "Who the hell are you to leave me five years ago all alone in the night!"

He was silent, completely dropping your numbing body. Luckily your palms caught the floor, neck craning up to see his thirsty expression. "Are you bitter about that (Name)?" Grimmjow taunted, leaning down right above your flustered face. You knew he was never a bright guy, but was his brain just as hollow as his lower abdomen?  
"Of course I fucking am! You try giving up your life because some moronic and ballistic man just impregnates you, and leaves without a warning!" You screeched, regret taking over.  
At first it looked as if he was going to kick you, but his face contorted.  Grimmjow's azure eyebrows creased. "Wait." He paused, crouching in front of you. You could hear his beastly breaths. His nostrils were flaring.  
"You heard me." You repeated for his clarity. "You left me with a kid to take care of." 

His right hand grabbed you chin, tilting it up. You couldn't read his hazed eyes. They were reflecting an emptiness. Grimmjow seemed unfazed about hearing of your child for the second time. You continued, "To answer those questions you mocked me with prior, I'm the mother of the most precious thing in my life, my chances to live a successful life died, and I dropped out of high school to support my child." It hurt to say the truth of the matter aloud.

He didn't respond verbally. Instead he flattened a palm above your head, you closed your eyes. You were confused, anxious, and petrified of this man. The distinct sound of the metal buckle of a belt crashing with the ground clamped your attention. The faint shuffling and rustling of clothing was something you'd only heard once. It was so unforgettable, and even though it led to the death of your hopes and dreams, it was probably the best moment of your life.

But, everything was different. You were older now, and more mature now. Stop lying to yourself (Name). You were helpless against this bluenette. 

Braving to open a single eye, you were greeted with a dick slapping you in the face. You weren't moderately surprised, but you weren't emotionally capable of tolerating anything of this conduct either. 

At at this point of your life you had minimal dignity and shame left, but you wished to preserve it. "Can't we talk thi-"   
He had shut you up real quick, slamming his dick into your mouth when it opened wide enough. You vaguely remembered the first time, but you were sure an argument was how the provocative actions ensued. That was a memory you tried so hard to forget, and burn to crisps.

Grimmjow's rough fingers gripped into the front of your hair. He was probably pissed it was harder to grip being so much shorter, but you knew he'd make it work. This man always found a way to get what he wanted. No matter who he had to stomp to reach the top.

The head of him was ramming down your already sore throat. You were trying your hardest not to gag on him. Acid bubbled in your stomach threatening to escape, but the fear you held controlled it. You could faintly hear him releasing strained groans. He got off so easy. You weren't even doing anything. He just slammed into your face. Dick sucking was never a favorite activity of yours. Especially not doing after that night.

"You were always so much cuter on your knees." He groaned, sliding his dick out of your mouth. A trail of saliva connecting between you both. How unappealing you must look right now. Just taking anything he said to you, and everything he did. You took the chance to indulge in decadent breaths, before his hardened member resided just hovering above your distraught and perplexed visage. Now he wanted you to put the effort in. He was such a backwards guy. The tip of your tongue lightly prodded his precum. It was wretched and bitter. Why were you even doing this (Name)? Weren't you so enraged? Or deep down, did you miss this? Did you miss him? You dragged your slobbering appendage up his shaft, coating him in your saliva. 

He tugged your head forward, teeth accidentally grazing against his sensitive flesh. But instead of him hissing, or lashing out he moaned. He actually enjoyed teeth grazing against him. That stunned you a bit, so through your tears and conflicted motives you dragged them all around. Eventually he pushed your body into the wall. Your spine was crying from the sore and tender bruise slowly forming from the last impact.   
"And you call me ballistic, but look at yourself (Name). You're just a little slut for me." He coaxed, tugging at you blouse. His hot breath coated your tender neck. Grimmjow wasn't playing around with you today. But he'd hurt you. Perhaps he had unreleased feelings from all those years ago. Maybe there was a reason for his unprecedented cameo.   
In monetary worth he screwed your over; slicing and shredding your blouse and bra. Did he not care about how much feminine clothing was worth? What happened to that dignity you were so desperately trying to keep in tact (Name)? Did you really just discard of it for him? Being 17 all over again?   
You cried every night for his return. As much as you hated loving him, you loved the love he made to you. You deserved a nice detox, sacrificing everything for your child. He hadn't earned sharing your child yet. When he gets a job and- 

Soft blue hairs tickled your jaw, and rough lips nipped at your neck. You mewled, as his rough palms groped your neglected mounds of flesh. "They're bigger than the last time." He managed to breath between nipping, gnawing, and sucking on your neck. The male was marking his territory, that was all. Your body trembled under his gritty touch. His calloused digits tweaking your nipples. "Fmuckim mwilk." He inaudibly groaned. You could tell he was referring to breast milk. A bit odd, but you didn't question him. Your skin betrayed any angst you had left. 

His sandpaper tongue exfoliated the skin down to your breasts, he took the right nipple between his jagged teeth. You screamed; it felt as if he was going to tear it off. He sucked hard. You released little moans. The air wreaked of lust and swear, and impatiently you rubbed your thighs together, feeling wetness begin to form. Were you that desperate? Lonesome, depraved, and demoralized?

The pads of his fingers traced everywhere along your body, setting off miniature fireworks underneath the layers of skin. His touch belonged on your skin. Vivid memories of happier times with him surfaced. The scowls that almost qualified as smiles, his terrible attempts at being a gentleman. This reunion felt heartbreaking, knowing he had no shame in leaving, nor even addressing the elephant of the child. But here he was making you pant like dog, and beg as if you were one too. You were willing to beg for him if that's what he needed.

"Grimmjow.." You moaned. His fingers getting greedy, and dipping into the hem of your skirt. He grunted in response. One hand tearing off a perfectly good skirt. If he wasn't about to fuck you, you probably would have shrieked your head off like you did prior. 

"I fucking hate you." You lied, shoulders slumping in defeat. And head hanging like your neck was broken by a noose. One of his sharp nails cut off your lilac panties, and he threw in over his clothed shoulder. He detached his mouth from your nipple, cocking his head. Those sinister eyes burning holes through you. "You're such a fucking liar woman. You love me so much that you hate yourself. I can smell the pheromones off you. Do you think I'm that ignorant?"

You raised your head, lips parting open. Before you could retort his strong palms forced your thighs open. He wasted no time slobbering over your clit. The rough tongue, licking and sucking the flap of skin, sending you into a helpless oblivion. His mask pressing into the side of your thigh. Warranting and giving off such a frosted touch. You flailed around, accidentally hitting your head into the wall.

"Don'tfuckin'hityourheadnow." He slurred. You arched your back from him. Your nerves begging to stimulate and relax. Your breaths became heavy, rising and falling at uneven intervals. For the first time in five years you could feel a tightness rising in your stomach. "Grimmjow.." You whimpered, grabbing his soft locks for support. He ignored your call, dipping his tongue in the small puddle of your excitement. His thumb moving over your clit to keep you riled. The ridges of his thumb felt marvelous and utterly blissful. You were already so close, loosing every inch of control you had left. It was all his now. 

You wanted to shout his name but bit your lips, each thrust of his tongue sent you just a little further over the edge. But right as the plane was about to take flight a thunderstorm with strobes of lighting brought down the show.

The absence of his tongue was worse than murder. "Don't fucking tease me you bastard! Five fucking years." You panted, finding the motivation to wipe the cool beads of sweat collecting on your forehead. Grimmjow's firm palm clutched your cheeks together. He placed his tongue next to your ear, flicking the lobe, and nibbling on it. The sides of his face rubbing against your bruising neck. 

"You're such an eager kitten. The fun hasn't even started." He chortled, chest vibrating the laugh. Grimmjow really was the kind of guy to play around with his prey. His hands flipped your body over, breasts and sweaty face being pressed into the cool tiles. The tiles were a pleasant catalyst for the intensity and frenzy your body was being thrown in. You anticipated his touch, craving him like a heroin addict. 

The slam of his palms besides your shoulders frightened you. He laughed wickedly, trailing lonesome digits down your protruding spine. Muggy, humid breath coating your back. "It's a little girl. I can smell her from here."

You stiffened. All this ruckus, what if she couldn't sleep? What if she's been watching this whole time? You felt like gum under a table. How could you have let this slip by? You were just that intoxicated by him..

One of his hands reached back into your hair, and the other palm smoothing over your bare ass. Your body tingled. "What a bad kitten.. Daddy gets home, and you've been making such a noise. What if you wake her (Name).? Daddy thinks you've been so naughty." 

Disgust was not strong enough with how you felt. He was being the wrong 'daddy'. Grimmjow was a man with many shameless kinks, and this was one you weren't fond of. Especially pertaining the articulate circumstances. He was such a prick.

Nothing could have ever prepared you for him sliding into you again. The sheet girth of him impaling you. Gritting your teeth, and rolling your eyes back at the same time. His palms dug into the small your back, nails merging with the tender flesh.

He sighed. It wasn't a pissy or moody one like before. But rather one of an apologetic nature. Probably the closest thing to an apology you'd ever receive from him. "Aren't you just a little princess?" Grimmjow said, hoisting you up. Was it even possible to carried with him inside of you. It felt uncomfortable with him just walking, gripping your body as if you were about to fall off a cliff. Your eyes began to droop, and your skin was wilting.

Everything seemed so mysterious, almost like you weren't in your apartment. But you were. The familiar scent of a cheap vanilla body spray entering your nose. The plush and comfort of the dingy couch. It was giving under your combining weights. Through blurred vision you saw his face. A satisfied smirk, and thankless eyes.   
The poor are always the charitable. His hips gyrating aggressively. The hardened member thrusting up into your womb, filling it. There wasn't any empty space between your legs. It was all occupied by him. A lustful smile hung loosely off your face. He witnessed it, attaching to your floating lips. Sinking sharp fangs into your chapped bottom lip. Blood already began to drip, and he licked it away.

So cloudy. So foggy. 

Both of his talented appendages ravaged you, but it felt more than well rewarded. A symphony of divine pleasure coursed through your blood. The delicious feeling of his outlined, and toned muscles mixing with your nude flesh. Even if he was wearing clothes, it didn't demolish any of the lacking luster. 

Like memory serves, you wrapped your legs around his waist. At this point you gave him all the advantage he could grasp. Every thrust in and out was tantalizing, and enticing. He never lost his touch.

He paused the kiss, "I actually missed something in this shitty town." 

Your eyes glistened at his generous words. But you chose to not respond. Anything you said would just rot and decay those few words he handed you. His lips melded with yours again, like molten metal. Nothing in the world was more desirable than his touch on your body. You weren't even fully aware or cognoscente of everything that was occurring, but at this point it wouldn't have held anymore meaning. 

Your inner walls began to tighten, the lost orgasm worming its way back. Moans echoed from mouth to mouth, and hands roamed the tore and battered canvas'. Softer pads of yours, trailed over the stiff polo. Your palm lowered, sinking in the vacancy of humanity on his back. There was also the remnants of a burn scar, and raised texture of his '6'.

From shoulders, to rib cage, ass, and neck his hands traversed in anything but a planned fashion.   
Again his mouth left yours, "Are you gonna?" "Of course.." You muttered, exhausted, and overworked from temptation and emotional misguidance. "You better scream it woman." "I have a child sleeping. I don't want to shatter the tranquility of sweet dreams she could be having. They're probably of you.."  
"What the hell does that mean?" He halted his rough thrusts, hands wrapping around your tresses once again. A rosy blush tinted your cheeks, "She asked about you today. So I gave her a vague depiction. That's all."

He resumed, "Scream into my hand." You didn't have the passion or heart to argue, letting his arid palm cover your lips. It felt like his thrusts grew faster, and plunged even farther than he's ever been. Each time her nudged and nicked a sensitive forest of nerves. At first you were quite, body void of sensation.  
"Fuck Grimmjow!" You shriked being muffled and muted by his siphon.

Slickness coated his member, and he glided in and out, driving you off a cliff. Your body was twitching, way beyond overload as he kept pounding into you. Jaunty and rushed movements, but you knew he was closer than ever. Masculine groans left his lips, and a sheen of sweat coated his face.  
His seed spilled inside your, combing in the hot mess of your own fluids. The excess dripping down your thighs.  
Turning your dazed head slightly, and feeling him depart from your legs.  
There was your little girl.

An absolutely mortified expression plastered on her innocent face. She dropped the teddy bear you bought her for Christmas this year. "Mommy.." Yuki whimpered.  
This night couldn't get any worse. Your thrashed around the couch, only to have the pressure of Grimmjow still atop of your aching and pleading body. You were in a state of utter panic and disarray. "Get off me!" You yelled.

He shot you a distasteful look, stuffing his dick back into his jeans. Did he have no common knowledge?

"Is this my child?" He questioned, eyes switching between your broken face, and her plagued one. "Mommy.." Yuki repeated again. Her eyes were wide, tears welling from them. Yours had reciprocated. You felt sinful, and dirty. How long was she there?

"You both sure cry a lot." He drawled out, raking a shaky hand through his messy locks. That was the last straw. He was such a nonchalant douche bag. "Just leave!" You cried, trying to shove him off. If the child weren't in the room, you knew he'd have you ass thrown faster on the floor than light reached your eyes. A deep wrath was coagulating within him.

"It's not my damn fault your such a desperate whore!" Grimmjow shouted, taking every ounce of control not to strangle you. 

"Not in front of her Grimmjow! Please at least if you can't be a father, be human!"

But that was the issue. Grimmjow was far from human.


End file.
